perche sono qui

aquarian eclipsing

the eye of the storm

(me?)

the beginning of another ending

the permanency of changing

liberation from stagnance

moderating creation and

hindering progress

a tornado that never quite touches down.

the end is present

and watches over you

but rarely does it shows its face.

omniscience prevails

likewise, the faith in my intuition.

one smouldering glance is all takes.

summer solstice

i had a dream last night i shot myself in the chest it was an accident but i fatally shot myself i had the strongest will to live i had the strongest desire to stay alive to survive i called 911 but they didnt care they wouldnt send an ambulance they thought it was a prank i ran to my neighbours i called my father and no one answered finally someone who was not in the slightest rush decided to drive me to the hospital since i didnt appear to be in any pain or losing blood or showing any signs of imminent death i was just panicked and alive the most alive i've ever been with a bullet in the centre of my chest i had the strength to live the will to survive to persevere we were driving there were so many of us crammed into that SUV i never left a blood stain on the leather or on my white shirt just a hole perfectly blasted out of cotton i just got right out when we arrived and asked doctor can you help me i've shot myself right in the chest you might not believe it until you do an xray but i swear to god there is a bullet right in the middle of my chest right between my breasts i swear to god it was kind of liberating-

and then i awoke to you ringing my door bell
to pick up your guitar
maybe some coins
a pair of shoes

thanks for leaving my resumes

(i really need a job)

a moment in isolation

i was thinking about so much but now i cant remember i cant really tap into it or access it i was high to make rent i didnt decide to think anything about it or turn into coins i just wanted to make rent i remember the way you busked along the waterfront i remember your art and i think about how you turn into coins you are magical so you turn into coins then you reappear as smoke and reshape as flesh you become a body you become somebody you are busking in the streets near the water turning into coins and reappearing as smoke i just wanted to make rent i didnt mean to remember anything i didnt want to think about seven hundred dollars or vomiting on sedatives you can have my blood if you want it its not mine to keep its the blood of the universe i am the air of the universe the universe that needs my blood the blood of the universe i didnt remember your art to turn into coins i wanted to turn into coins to buy a coffee i wanted to have a cigarette and then i turned into coins so i couldnt buy a coffee or have a cigarette when i reappeared as smoke i thought of you busking along the waterfront i remember your art your melodies the brooding organ of your being that is what you are you are a brooding organ that turns into coins and reappears as smoke you are really magical i didnt mean to forget myself but i couldnt forget seven hundred dollars and how i need to make rent so i gave my blood to the universe i was high and i brought up water expelled it just to remember your art and your brooding organ heart beat the essence of you the physical magical spiritual essence of you your very ego and your shadow your darkness and your eternal and shining optimism how you turn into coins so i can buy a coffee and reappear as smoke so i can have a cigarette we are always missing each other and i made rent

can i make a short film about you???????

porch on sweeping thoughts

feel most italian sweeping concrete plants like clean balcony thrive on clean ground soil ok cement sweeping italian cement sweeping italian woman boredom loving kitchen person love country hate father want sex resent mother sweeping cement plants thrive want comfort want you to be comfortable are you hungry are you thirsty why not are you comfortable please do not say no in my home you can only say yes in my home i want to be comfortable i need comfort more than creating your comfort i want you to be ok then i am ok not well if you arent well i need you to be good i need you to be hungry and thirsty and like clean cement too isnt the balcony nice isnt it nice isnt the house nice do you like it do you feel comfortable i want you to be free but i need you to stay here can you stay overnight do you want a pillow i have pyjamas i can give you anything you want italian woman sweeps cement plants thrive cats bathe in sun comfort everything is comfortable the cats and plants like it they love it so you must too why i wouldnt like it if it wasnt likeable you must feel comfortable italian woman wants to know are you thirsty are you hungry do you want anything anything you want i will go get it it doesnt matter your hair is so beautiful your nose is perfect your eyes are so blue not envious but confused confused and intrigued she wants you to feel comfortable do you feel comfortable?

mangia l'uomo

i'm feeding
i'm feeding off you
i'm leprosy (h.d.)
i'm the worst disease

i'm feeding eating living off you
i unearth unnerve you
i parasite you
intestines hold me

i'm feeding off you
i'm needing eating
you jungle fevering
burning up raiding reaming

i'm feeding
i'm feeding off you

nourish love me
bird regurgitate me
you need me
you need to feed me

i'm feeding off you

you really love me

fucking
sweating
licking
sucking

ruckus n. jimmy
bobby chaos
this one is for you

swampy deserts don't exist

i would like them to
though

you too
i would like you to exist

come over anytime
i'll make you

i'll make you fucking come

you are sleeping

but i wont like
you i dont want
to what if -

i'll never know

i'll never let
myself find out

(again)

because of another

& myself
undoubtedly

what i'm missing

non sequitur

being the same being the same being being being being being the same
the same being being being being being the same being
being the same

you have lost all meaning

so?

so nothing if you want to be
so nothing maybe or certain
maybe nothing is certain

i don't follow

so?

a poetic interpretation of quantum physics

'the other world... before'
is bound to return
sooner
or later?

it still exists for me
i mean the other one
after the real one
not this one
now

we'll be one
simultaneously -

i mean for a moment
momentarily one

feeling the same
or being the same?

moon in gemini

i'll s your d
then l my v
we'll s a j
then you'll be e'd

"imagine if that little cloud rained"

enough -

for some reason
i could not save you
save all your attempts
at salvation
save everything i tried

for some reason
i could not hurt you
save my spiritual resistance
save you i tried
but you only knew me
save yourself

you were the brains
behind it
you were the eyes
behind the wall
you were everything
and nothing
all the same (time)
you were the hands
sewing the curtain
you were lonely
in a crowd

you were the love of many women

you are a planter

calling you out

bring it on
its not the disease
but the booze
that ails ya
bring it on
old man
you have an eloquent
way of speaking
you know
you're a little
intimidating

but i'm sure
it's just your intellect

i thought you
were a man
i'm sorry
you look like
whoopi
now that i see
i'm sorry you
look like a man
from a distance

(without glasses)

of mirrors

you don't look at yourself
you see something else
you don't see yourself
you look like someone else
you reflect others
onto themselves
you don't see yourself
you look at someone else
you scorn bitterness
by scowling at others
you force them to look at themselves
you force them to question themselves
they don't see themselves
you reflect their selves
onto them selves
you see everything
but you never see yourself

you can't look that way

italian polka
trinity bellwoods fair

the way you play the accordion
is really magical
you are
really beautiful

i think you should always
fearlessly pursue your dreams

feral spirit

accordion man

play your instrument
and dance that way

maybe even
to the djembe

you sway like
this breeze

or with it?

we are remembering

and you are always forgotten
the abandoned script
of a moderately famous playwright
as the actor perpetuates himself vicariously

and you,
you're an unpublished mess of manuscripts and drafts
de-valued in loss and lack of translation

like something unspoken
that can be uttered

yeah yeah yeah yeah

yeah

not really

if i could begin at all

i would start over

contemporary woman

romance is fucking dead, since women learnt to cuss and masturbate and everything, and pretend not to care and never call, and never lose their cool, never act jealous, but we're fucking losing it, we have fuck all, we lost, i hate this feminism bullshit, this empowerment fucking garbage, breeds loneliness and lesbianism, i want to go back in time and wear a corset and stay at home all day making domestic activities look challenging, but maybe thats just because i'm into s&m, who said the slave wasn't powerful, who said woman in kitchen is thoughtless, fuck that shit, maybe i'm sick of thinking anyway, 50s revival, but fuck bluegrass too, your cowboy boots bullshit and greasy hair, you're not a fucking cowboy asshole, you don't even think you are, you're just trying to get dressed properly, and impress women who are impressed by that sort of thing, not me of course, i'm just always fucking back where i started, i couldn't even begin to be impressed

re-immigration

woes of the lower west side

To the Crack Whore Taking a Shit Outside My Window - m4w - 23 (Parkdale)

Reply to: pers-hbs9j-1098178842@craigslist.org [Errors when replying to ads?]
Date: 2009-03-29, 8:10PM EDT


Me: in my living room, relaxing with a glass of wine and the latest episode of "Hell's Kitchen".

You: A crack whore. Dropping a deuce in the alley outside my window.

I mistook your grunts of constipation as cries for help. When I threw open the window and looked outside, you screamed "Why don't you take a fucking picture?".

Sadly there were no batteries in my camera.

Coffee?


Location: Parkdale
it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
PostingID: 1098178842

aliens exist

you know what i'm talking about

if i were a stripper

my theme song would be 'black sweat'

i might become a stripper

i don't know about me

but i definitely know who you am

mind of modern man

Drake...Saturday Night - m4w - 44 (Queen West)

Reply to: pers-jnahd-1064024796@craigslist.org [Errors when replying to ads?]
Date: 2009-03-07, 1:40AM EST


I.
I met you and you were 21 and I was wrong.
Your friend was Barbara Hershey in Hannah and Her Sisters.
Or she will be.
You. You are no Diane Keaton but you are Mia Farrow.
And me.
You know you I am.


Location: Queen West
it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
PostingID: 1064024796

everything is art

therefore nothing is art

never successful

at drowning myself in the bath

(obviously)

school

is fucking torture

i quit smoking

overnight,
it only lasted as long as i slept

i think

men are more romantic than women
but we never pick up on it

adventures uptown

the tiles at eglinton station look shiny today. only at eglinton would the tiles be shiny. someone actually washed them. a break of blinding greyness enters the train for davisville. i squint my eyes and turn away. i always liked davisville more than eglinton. black women are always reading something spiritual. i wonder if the men i make eye contact with will write a missed connection for me on craigslist. but i guess you have to have a connection before you can miss one. i want to deface the advertisement that warns us not to assault ttc workers. i feel like assaulting ttc workers keeps the city in check. the loveless city. i love to hate this city. wondering about the future and i'm always here. i'm obsessed with isolation. feeling alone in large spaces, not too dense but populated enough to feel surrounded by something. i want to deface everything that offends me, mostly everything around me. including human beings. maybe mash my hand into someone's face or spew water at them like a fountain. to give and get a little life out of this place. others i want to high five or rest my head on their shoulders or tell them how much i just can't stand their shoes. why not high five someone when you felt like it. or assault a public service worker. or tell someone something they might not have known. bloor station. i hate walking along the platform since it pulls you in opposite directions, so i habitually board the end of the southbound train, which gets me closest to the stairs for the east-west trains. i wonder why people always pile into the first set of stairs instead of taking the second set just behind, which is considerably less vulgar in its civility: i mean the luxury of not smelling another person or tripping on their soles, free movement. they look like worms just slithering and oozing all over one another trying to get down those stairs. just waiting for the pressure to burst and make more room. sleeping all over each other like soldiers in trenches or street kids in shantis. everything is filthy where there is too much. i wonder why people aren't in a hurry. but i have nowhere to be. my heart beats slower for a moment then regains its presto. i've got to get out of here.

nietzsche would argue i exploit my own experiences
but i know i'm just full of shit

was it plato or morrissey who asked
if the body ruled the mind
or otherwise,

was it freud or sonic youth
who conceded that confusion
must be sex

it must have been you
to say neither ruled nor obeyed
is the mind to the body

and of course,
sex could only disjunctively
be confusing

save a tautology innately human(e)

you can lay me like you mean it
and hey,
you might as well lay me
in the ground while you're at it

since i'm not good enough
to 'be with' -

to all the men i've loved

what if this ship sinks on time
like the script is supposing
i'm not sure if i'll bail or concede

to death,

or the bitter prospect of survival
in braving this angry sea

you don't quote me

because i am more brilliant
a shining star so to speak
a star that blazes
and dies out
periodically

and naturally so
consciously unconscious

of my own genius
not of my own beauty

i fade out like the winded tunnel

well,

i should have asked you
how you felt about being analyzed
or situated but i thought
it might be intrusive
or thoughtless
i took care to you
and wanted to amend
anything seriously
invalid
but i had a resonating feeling
that you might not reciprocate
my own feelings,
i'm sorry you were upset when we left
if i didn't call you
it means i'm in love with you
and i want to be with you for us
as long as i can
imagine

but i can't hold on forever
i'm only human after all

its unfortunate after all
i mean ultimately -

generation nostalgia

"gay, is the symbol of a heart"

i was born

in the bitterest of months
those times you think it could never get colder
but it does
and the ice might last forever
you know my parents almost died getting me to the hospital
unborn it was the damnedest blizzard the world had never seen
february fourth nineteen eighty six

when canadians lost faith

you know i really do miss you
but i'm clueless at reparations

i only renovate